


adrenaline

by exception



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Arctic Monkeys - Freeform, Band Fic, Cigarettes, Daddy Issues, Drug Use, Florida, Fluff, Gay, Homophobia, M/M, SKATER DREAM, Skateboarding, Smoking, Smut, dream team as a band go brrr, drummer dream, gae band romance, george can sing, haha that's my fav trope, high sapnap haha, skaterboi sapnap, surfs curse, the neighbourhood - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-17 06:22:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29220906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exception/pseuds/exception
Summary: his voice. it sounded different from when he was screaming lyrics into a mic. it was deep, and raspy. yet it was smooth. not quite honey, but molasses. thick, yet glossy.“see george? i told you that you wouldn’t regret coming tonight.” wilbur’s british accent contrasted clay’s deep american one.“i guess you were right.” george managed to say, while his mind was still taken over by clay’s voice.“i’m always right.” wil retorted.maybe it was the bass of the song, or maybe it was the alcohol. maybe it was the notes of clay’s voice that he could feel in his toes like the bass at a concert. but that night, george felt like he was on ecstasy.-george moves in with wilbur for his last years attending college. little would he know that joining a band would be in his future. staying sober was difficult when someone was running through your mind every second of the day. writing lyrics and getting high is what he'll do until he can have him.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 48





	1. ecstasy

**Author's Note:**

> hi this is my first ever fic so im really sorry if it sucks. and i have barely any idea how to post on ao3 bc i've only been reading haha. thought i'd try it out though. i had freaks by surf curse on loop while writing this chapter and it's also the song in the fic too. uh so basically this is just something i'm gonna do for fun, and idk when more chapters will be out since i don't expect anyone to read this.
> 
> if any ccs are uncomfortable with this or want it taken down, i will take it down immediately. 
> 
> lowercase intentional.

the second george stepped out the airport he found it hard to breathe. the stuffy humid air clogged his lungs as he attempted to get a breath of fresh air. but floridian summer air was far from fresh. the atmosphere was a stark contrast between the crisper london weather he was used to. though like florida, london was wet, england was further north resulting in chillier storms rather than the tropical humid ones.

even with a setting sun, orlando heat made its way into george’s system, quickly covering him in a thin layer of sweat. luggage in hand, george made his way to the edge of the street to be picked up by the uber he called for. 

  
  


“good to have you back man.” the distantly familiar voice spoke.

“nice seeing you too, wilbur.”

“so, let me show you around the place. it isn’t much, but it’ll do until we finish school.” george couldn’t help but notice the faint american accent buried deep into wilburs voice. it was barely underlying, but quite obvious to someone who had known him for a while. not to mention the way that wilbur had grown his hair out quite long, especially curling around his brown eyes.

wilbur’s home certainly wasn’t the grandest, but impressive nevertheless for a college student struggling to pay off loans. it was impressive enough that he owned a house at all. though, most students in the area didn’t even live on campus, majority still lived with their parents.

“i’m glad you decided to study here george. i think it’ll be good for you.”

“well, it’s not like i had much other choice. i really appreciate it though wil, thanks for letting me crash with you until i decide school is too boring.”

“no problem george, i know this isn’t really the dream, but y’know, it’s a really good start.” wilbur offered a warm smile, something familiar that george always noticed him wearing. 

  
  


honestly, wilbur allowing him to stay with him as he studied in college was close to a dream for george. college was a good excuse to escape the toxic life he had in london. his parents were separated, and while technically george was an adult and could live on his own, he was absolutely broke. before he turned 18, george was constantly on the train from london to brighton or the other way around. after moving in with his mother in london, he quite literally did nothing but leech off of her earnings. he supposes that moving to america is better for everyone. even for his dad.

george entered the room he would be staying in for the next couple of years. it was bland, empty except for the mattress and bedside table. the lone window faced west, above a shingled roof. it looked onto a small yard, fenced from the surrounding neighbors. 

a sigh escaped his lips as he rested his luggage against the foot of the mattress and fell onto it.  _ might as well make the most of this. _

  
  


“i’m not quite the chef, and as far as i’m aware, i don’t remember you being either. so, i usually just get take out if that’s okay with you.”

“yeah that’s fine, i don’t really care.”

“okay” wilbur started toward the door, before snapping around to face george again. “oh, i forgot to tell you”

george looked up from his phone meeting wilbur’s gaze. “what?”

“i have a gig for my band if you want to come tomorrow, you should come and make new friends or some shit.”

george let out a small laugh, before answering. “i don’t know wil, i‘m not really a social guy.”

“aw c’mon, it would’nt hurt to come just once, since i’m technically your only friend. and besides, our house is where we practice anyway so it’s only so long until you meet them.”

“fine, but just this once.”

-

_ don’t kill me, just help me run away _

_ from everyone, i need a place to stay _

_ where i can cover up my face _

_ don’t cry, i am just a freak _

the feeling of adrenaline coursed through george’s blood since the first beat of the song. the vibrations ran directly from the drums to his toes, he could feel every note from his fingertips. three voices harmonized- well it wasn’t exactly harmony. it was beautiful chaos. it was dark, yet in the heavy atmosphere you could almost be flying. george had never felt like this in his  _ life. _

_ i am just a freak _

_ i am just a freak _

_ i am just a freak _

he could feel the alcohol cloud his mind, but it made him feel so light. his eyes carried his gaze to the stage, meeting a familiar face. he saw wilbur scream into the mic while playing his electric guitar. to his right, a shorter boy played bass, his brunette hair kept from his forehead with a white bandana. at the very back of the stage, there sat a blonde, beating hard at the drumset. he flipped the drum sticks with ease, his veiny arms flexed as he caught them in his tanned fingers.  _ and it was hot _ . he wore a black tee that fit tight around his shoulders, with silver chains hanging from his neck. his body shifted to get closer to the mic in front of him.

_ my head is filled with parasites _

_ black holes cover up my eyes _

_ i dream of you almost every night _

_ hopefully i won’t wake up this time _

he felt a burning gaze on him, and looked to the dirty blonde drummer. his eyes were glowing in the spotlight, a pale yellow. even across the distance of the room, george felt himself getting lost in the liquid gold irises, swirling like elixir. his hair bounced from his movement, the locks of blonde dampened by sweat. his lips were parted slightly as he stared back. despite being entranced by george, the drummer still managed to keep his beat until the end of the song.

_ i won’t wake up this time _

_ i won’t wake up this time _

_ i won’t wake up this time _

the lyrics were hard to decipher, but george made out the dark words mixed into the lively rhythm. whoever wrote this song is going through shit. not that it doesn’t make a great song.

-

“george!” a voice called from the back of the room a few minutes after the music ended. “come over here! come meet the boys!”

pushing his way past intoxicated bodies, george was met with two new faces. he had seen the bass player’s height from the stage, and was right about him being just barely taller than himself. though, the drummer  _ towered _ over him. though the blonde still managed to be shorter than wilbur, he was more muscular than the skinny brit. 

“george, i’d like you to meet my bandmates and best friends. this is nick,” he gestured toward the shorter bass player. who waved with a smile. “and this is clay.”

_ clay. _

he moved his gaze off of nick to be greeted with those same pale eyes, the ones with golden flecks. sweat beaded on his forehead and freckled nose, glimmering in the dim light. 

clay stared back at him with the same look as before, before quickly composing himself into a small grin. 

“george is staying with me while he finishes up college. you’ll see plenty more of him though.”

“did you enjoy the show?” nick asked the as the four walked to the bar.

“honestly, i didn’t think i would, but that was really incredible.” george flattered, recalling the feeling he felt as the bass coursed through his veins. “was that an original song? i really liked it.”

“yeah!” nick continued with a laugh, “clay wrote the whole thing. lyrics, melody, everything. the guy is the most talented person i know, yet he prefers to stay in the back on the drums.”

“wow, that’s crazy.” george turned his gaze to rest on clay’s flushed face. “that song was so good, honestly hits quite close to home.”

“thanks, it’s pretty personal. but i sure as hell couldn’t have done it without these boys.”

_ whoa. _ his  _ voice. _ it sounded different from when he was screaming lyrics into a mic. it was deep, and raspy. yet it was smooth. not quite honey, but molasses. thick, yet glossy. 

“see george? i told you that you wouldn’t regret coming tonight.” wilbur’s british accent contrasted clay’s deep american one.

“i guess you were right.” george managed to say, while his mind was still taken over by clay’s voice.

“i’m always right.” wil retorted.

maybe it was the bass of the song, or maybe it was the alcohol. maybe it was the notes of clay’s voice that he could feel in his toes like the bass at a concert. but that night, george felt like he was on ecstasy.


	2. apocalypse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> lost in his own lyrics, george couldn’t hear the light footsteps climbing the stairs. his eyes fluttered shut, pouring his soul out of his fingertips onto dirty keys. he didn’t notice as his doorknob twisted, and a presence loomed near the archway.
> 
> "kisses on the foreheads of the lovers wrapped in your arms
> 
> you’ve been hiding them in hollowed out pianos left in the dark"
> 
> the last set of chords rang out, leaving a silence for a few minutes. until an unexpected voice spoke.
> 
> “i didn’t know you could sing.” it was his voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow i updated haha  
> uh i kind of speedran this so it's kinda bad but hope you enjoy anyway. also, idk how to make like multichaptered stuff here bc I'm dumb and don't know how ao3 works. song in this fic is apocalypse by cigarettes after sex, and it's really beautiful so please listen to it.

the beat of the drums held steady just like the pulse of george’s heart. he knew the calloused hands that struck them, and how those pretty eyelids shut as he played with his soul. and he knew that it was just him, because wilbur went to work in the morning and nick had classes on thursdays.

yet every time he felt the vibration from his bedroom, his mind went to wander. clay came around often to practice, as his drum set stayed in wilbur’s garage. despite living with wilbur for almost three weeks, and seeing the band every so often, george and clay barely spoke. only stealing glances that would last a second too long, or teasing jokes that would only be classified as friendly. 

clay frequented their house, and sometimes george wondered if he even ever went home some nights. yet george still barely saw him since he would hide away in his room studying. at least that’s what he’d like to be doing. most nights george would take out his old keyboard and write meaningless lyrics until slumber hit him. some days george wouldn’t even eat. probably unhealthy- definitely unhealthy. but george really needed to graduate college to make up for all the bad decisions made in high school.

-

it was yet another thursday night, george still tucked away in his room. stressed from all the work, he pulled out the cheap keyboard that his mum had got him for christmas a few years back. he continued to write lyrics to a song he’d come up with weeks ago, as he slipped in and out of depression. 

it was oddly quiet, there was no one laying their heart out on the drums. maybe clay decided on not coming tonight. nothing but the cheap keyboard and george’s voice filled the air.

_ you leapt from crumbling bridges watching cityscapes turn to dust _

_ filming helicopters crashing in the ocean from way above _

though quiet, george’s voice could be heard from just under his room. 

_ got the music in you baby tell me why _

_ got the music in you baby tell me why _

_ you’ve been locked in here forever and you just can’t say goodbye _

lost in his own lyrics, george couldn’t hear the light footsteps climbing the stairs. his eyes fluttered shut, pouring his soul out of his fingertips onto dirty keys. he didn’t notice as his doorknob twisted, and a presence loomed near the archway.

_ kisses on the foreheads of the lovers wrapped in your arms _

_ you’ve been hiding them in hollowed out pianos left in the dark _

the last set of chords rang out, leaving a silence for a few minutes. until an unexpected voice spoke.

“i didn’t know you could sing.” it was  _ his  _ voice.

the sudden break in the silence startled george as he flinched and looked to the doorway. 

“i- uh, i don’t.” george manage to spit out just as the realization set in. no one had ever heard him sing. but clay just did.

“yeah right, tell me why i just heard the voice of an angel come out of your mouth then.” clay laughed, stepping towards george’s bed. “what’s that song called?”

“um, i’m not really sure yet.” george’s cheeks were flushed red as he shifted on his bed to allow clay to sit next to him. “it’s not really finished yet.”

“you wrote that?”

“yeah, it’s not even done ye-”

“are you kidding me? you’re insanely talented. you should help me write songs instead of nick. he fucking sucks.” the adoration laced in his voice showed, though woven deep.

“what about wil? he’s great at writing lyrics.”

“he’s way too busy. with work and all that.” he paused for a moment before continuing, “your voice is just-  _ incredible _ .”

_ your voice is incredible,  _ george thought.

“you’re just saying that” george breathed out with ruby cheeks.

“no, i’m serious. plus, you play the keys. we need a new keyboard player, our old one left.”

“i’m not really good at them, and i don’t have much free time.” clay didn’t answer for a few seconds, but before he could counter, george spoke.

“why were you so late today? you’re usually on the drums by seven.”

george watched as clay’s rough demeanor faltered for a moment, but he quickly mumbled out unsure of himself.

“i- uh my parents were holding me up.” the vulnerability only lasted a minute, as he quickly tried to compose himself. george could see the way he looked down, and he played with his fingers. he could tell that wasn’t the full story. but who was he to question?

“why are you trying to change the subject? george, join the band.” he looked back up, the confidence seeping back into his eyes. the way clay pronounced his g’s curled around george’s mind, threatening his opinion to change.

“i don’t know about that, i uhm have stage fright.”

“oh c’mon now,  _ please george? _ we need someone on keys, it completes us.” his voice dropped low and rumbled across the mattress touching george’s fingertips. the plead tasted savory, something irresistible. and how could george say no to those eyes?

“ok fine.” 

clay smiled, something george rarely saw. maybe it was worth it, to see that smile again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is really short i'm really sorry but while i was writing it just came to an end really quickly. this chapter is also very dialogue-heavy so sorry about that. hope you enjoyed though! also thanks for all the kudos and bookmarks, i honestly didn't think anyone was gonna read this. oh! also, might not update in a while bc i'm working on a oneshot also based on apocalypse!!

**Author's Note:**

> ok that was really fun. hopefully i'll have the motivation to continue this, in case anyone is reading it. please leave feedback in the comments if you're reading this. also idk how to write a summary since idek how this will end. stream road trip!!


End file.
